A Pretty Sort of Park
by becca85
Summary: All it took was one storm to unravel a lifetime of dreaming.


**A/N: I am going to repeat some of the author's notes that I used on my other JP fanfic here. I love this novel and movie so much that I know the story backwards and forwards, inside and out, etc., that none of my fanfic attempts ever seem good enough to post. I end up starting and discarding a ton of ideas. I think this one is definitely not one of my best, but since I started this story over a year (maybe two) ago, I finally decided to buckle down and actually start and finish a draft of it, so here it is. If you would like to review, be kind, but constructive. This is a mixture of the novel (for the bungalow), movie (for Hammond's character), and a little AU. **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters or ideas created by Michael Crichton or glorified by Steven Spielberg. I borrowed them for the entertainment and amusement of my audience. **

**SUMMARY: All it took was one storm to unravel a lifetime of dreaming.**

**GENRE: Drama**

**RATING: PG**

**DATE: August 26, 2011**

**::~*~::**

John Hammond was scared. The wind and rain buffeted the windows to his bungalow, but he hardly paid them any heed. His dream, the culmination of his long life, was crumbling around him and, truthfully, he knew he couldn't stop it. Things were too far gone. There was no coming back from this.

An intense flash of lightning lit up the inside of his bungalow, before plunging it completely into darkness. Cursing, he stumbled across the living area, knocking his knee against one of the end tables to where the circuit breaker was on the wall. By the infrequent light of the raging storm outside, he flipped switch after switch, all to no avail. Closing the door, his breath caught in his throat as another brilliant flash of lightning threw everything into stark relief and a most unusual shadow was briefly defined on the wall next to his own. Whirling around, he sought for the source, but the light had already faded again and all he could see was the jungle foliage being blown against the windowpanes.

_It was just a figment of your imagination. The news relayed in the control room has preyed on your mind. You're quite safe here. _The thoughts bounced around his head as the wind picked up in intensity outside, howling around the corners of his humble abode.

As Hammond slowly made his way towards the kitchen to grab some candles from an emergency kit, the lights faintly flickered before re-illuminating the room. Pausing only for a second, he figured he might as well have candles and/or a flashlight nearby. Who knew how long until the lights failed again. They were notorious for being unreliable in storms like this.

With a flashlight in hand, he retreated back to the living area, grabbing up a file off of the coffee table to peruse as he settled onto the handcrafted sofa. After a few minutes of distracted reading he tossed it back down. He didn't want to go back to the control room. He didn't want to face the accusing stares of his employees. He didn't want to try and justify his dream to them, even as it fell under the punishing beat of the rain. They were _his_ employees. He signed their paychecks and they didn't ask questions. It was the chain of command.

_I'm a failure._ The thought shoved everything else out of his mind and he began to wonder if the terrible truth of that statement was even worse than the predicament he was presently in. He had always succeeded at everything he put his mind to. It didn't matter if obstructions attempted to block his path. He forged ahead and accomplished what he had set out to do. _Perhaps I overreached this time. _Setting out on a path that no one had ever dreamed of before, he was like a child at Christmas as he saw everything unfolding as it was supposed to. By the time he had brought in his first true visitors, he was convinced that nothing could possibly go wrong. Never mind that he had shoved the fatalities from the construction to the back of his mind where they couldn't intrude upon his elation. Every new enterprise bore the scars of accidents as it rolled forth on its glorious path to fruition. It was a fact of progress.

The lights suddenly cut out again. Hammond didn't move from his spot, hoping they would come on again. The loss of light reminded him rather forcefully of the shadow he had seen before—if he had indeed seen it. Suddenly, the whispers and glances of his employees didn't sound quite so bad, especially compared with the solidarity of his present circumstances, with only the wind, rain, and darkness to keep him company. He resolved to return to the main compound once the lights came on again.

After five minutes of sitting in the darkness, he decided he didn't want to wait any longer. Illuminating the flashlight in his hands, he approached the door, only to freeze in horror as his heart hammered within his chest. Very faint, but almost certainly there all the same, the low snorting sound had brought him up short. In his rapidly increasing panicked state of mind, he racked his brain for the name of the creature that made that snorting sound. Almost immediately, it came to him—_Raptor. _He stumbled back a step, his hand recoiling from the doorknob.

That was the name of the monster that had ripped into that worker, earlier in the year. Hammond had not been on the island when it had happened, but he had heard the stories circulating amongst the native workers. It had been a horrifying accident that resulted in more than one worker fleeing from the island without their pay.

_I'm trapped!_ His breathing started coming in short gasps. The air in the room suddenly seemed so heavy. As much as he strained his hearing, he could not detect the sound again.

After standing absolutely still for several minutes, he decided that his mind truly was playing tricks on him. There was nothing out there. Besides, Arnold had assured him that the raptor fences hadn't been touched. Laughing forcefully at himself, he stepped forward again. Flinging open the door, he took an involuntarily step back as a large form towered over him in the doorway.

**::~*~::**

**A/N: Yep, I just did that. I just ended on that note. I'll leave it up to you, the reader, to decide who, or what, was standing on the other side of the door. Remember, John Hammond is a little guy, so almost every other character could tower over him.**


End file.
